


After these Messages

by redmacallan



Series: After These Messages [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: M/M, as in there is a kanera baby, brief Kanera, other characters are mentioned but don't really show up, past kallus/jovan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmacallan/pseuds/redmacallan
Summary: Short Kalluzeb fics written during the hiatus in season 3.





	1. Chapter 1

_Ding!_

Kallus turns his head to face the heater and, after a few moments, takes the bottle from it.

It's warm to the touch, but definitely won't burn anyone. He drips a little of the milk onto his wrist, like Hera told them to.

"Warm, not hot, you two," she'd said. "Kallus, you should probably test it. You haven't got a layer of hair in the way."

Zeb had looked miffed at that, but he was joking.

Either way, the milk's ready- warm, not hot, doesn't scald his wrist- so he heads down the Ghost's corridor, where Zeb's sitting with the baby.

The two of them are staring at a holo-book, Zeb reading the words and Cinder grasping her hands out to try and touch the pictures. There aren't many words to read, really- it's a picture book Ezra stole when she was first born as a kind of gift- but Zeb's trying his damnedest.

He smirks at the two of them. "I brought food."

Zeb looks up and his ears twitch back. "For me?"

"For her."

"Oh." Zeb goes to shift Cinder off his lap. "You want to take her?"

Kallus sits down beside them, but hands him the bottle. "You can do it."

Zeb props Cinder up and tries to give her the bottle. She ignores him, too distracted by a little picture of a loth-cat in the book. He sighs, pops the bottle on the table, and switches the holo-book off.

"How about we have a different story, alright?" He tries giving Cinder the bottle again, and she takes it and starts to eat. Zeb pats her head.

He starts with a Lasat phrase that Kallus has learnt essentially translates to Once upon a time, and then, "there was a strong and handsome Lasat warrior, who became the leader of the Honor Guard."

Cinder stares up at him, wide-eyed.

"He fought," Zeb continues, "to protect the royal family, and everyone he knew, and make sure the monsters would never, ever get them. And," he adds, with a smirk out of place for a fairytale, "he was very good at it."

Kallus snorts. "Don't flatter yourself too much."

"Who says I'm talking about myself?" Zeb asks, not looking away from the baby. She wriggles in his lap, momentarily distracted.

"But far, far away," Zeb says, and her attention turns back to him, "there was an ugly soldier, who fought for the monsters, and had really bad sideburns-"

"Can we leave out the facial hair details?" Kallus frowns. "And I don't think this is exactly bedtime story material." The knowledge of what he did back then still eats away at him, despite all the help he's received. He's not exactly comfortable with Zeb using it as a basis for a fairytale.

Zeb kisses his cheek. "I'll skip out the bad parts."

"It was _all_ bad."

Zeb chuckles. "Not the part where we met properly." He lets Cinder go, so she's leaning against him, and he's got one hand holding the bottle for her and the other free. He squeezes Kallus's hand. "Don't worry. She's like five months old. She won't remember this."

Zeb turns back to Cinder, still holding Kallus's hand. "Now, where were we?" He beams at her. "So, the Lasat and the ugly soldier-"

"Does the ugly have to be there?"

"The _soldier_ ," Zeb says, "fought each other for many, many, many years, because they were on opposite sides, but they never met because there were so many heroes and warriors and monsters. Until, one day, they met in a faraway land, called uh- Lothal-"

"We're in the same system as Lothal right now."

"Far away if you're a baby," mutters Zeb. "Anyway, the soldier marched up to the Lasat, and shouted that he was the better fighter, and they had a duel to decide." Through all of this, Zeb rubs his thumb in little comforting circles onto the back of Kallus's hand. It's appreciated- he doesn't like to remember this. "The warrior almost won the fight, but right at the end, the Lasat fought back-"

Kallus shoots him a look that says _that's not how it happened_ , and Zeb replies with one that says _I don't care_.

"-and won the duel. However, they were still both alive, and they fought many, many battles against each other, each more heroic and brilliant than the last!"

Kallus wouldn't describe what he did as brilliant and heroic. Sneaky, maybe. Unfair, almost certainly. Cruel and manipulative and evil, definitely.

Zeb's still engrossed in his story. "But then, one day, a dragon made them crash into an icy planet-"

Now he has to speak up. "Escape pods are _dragons_?"

"Aw, c'mon." Zeb strokes Cinder's cheek, and she coos. "What kid wants to hear about escape pods?"

"You'd be surprised," mutters Kallus.

"At first," Zeb says, continuing the story, "they wanted to fight, like they always did. But, on the way down, the soldier broke his leg, so the big strong handsome Lasat-"

Kallus scoffs at the stream of adjectives, but doesn't stop him.

"-decided not to fight him." He tickles Cinder's stomach, and she burbles around the bottle. "So now, they were trapped in a cave filled with big, scary monsters." He snarls and flares his teeth for dramatic effect, and Cinder squeals.

"Don't _scare_ her!"

Zeb chuckles. "She's fine. It's a love story, it'll all end nice."

A love story? Kallus thinks, dryly. Not sure if I'd count getting trapped on a moon as romantic.

Cinder slurps up the last of her bottle, and Zeb takes it from her before picking her up.

He leans in close and almost whispers to her. "So they fought the monsters off, together." He grins fiendishly. "Like this!"

And with that, he's swinging her around his head, over the table, round and round and round, to her delight and Kallus's dismay.

" _Zeb-_ "

Zeb stops flinging the baby around and chuckles, Cinder still making excited squeaks in his arms. "She's alright. I've thrown her further."

"You've _thrown_ her?!"

"Yep." He ignores Kallus completely, talking to Cinder now. "And after the soldier and the Lasat fought off the monsters, they decided to sit and wait for their friends to arrive with a different dragon. So," he positions Cinder on his lap more comfortably, "they started talking about themselves. The soldier said that he was very scared of the monsters he worked for, and he wanted to do the right thing, but there was a curse that had been cast on him. And the only way to break the curse was with the kiss of true love-"

That's not actually true, Kallus thinks. Their first proper meeting- on Bathryn, as themselves, instead of caricatures of what they were supposed to be- was, for him, far from romantic. He was adrenaline-addled, cold, exhausted, terrified, suffering from a traumatic flashback, and was in no state to walk, let alone attempt to seduce a member of a race who he helped to wipe out. Their first kiss was months later, when he could actually walk, and had a nice jumper on.

He remembers the jumper because Zeb got a claw stuck in it whilst they were kissing.

"-and sparks flew, and the Lasat whisked the soldier away because he was free now, and they rode away together-"

Again, not that easy. He almost died trying to escape. Even then, he wasn't really free, too plagued with guilt and various mental health problems to even speak for while after they found him. He still gets it sometimes, remembering the cold and the pain and the fact that faced with death _he tried to run-_

Zeb blows a raspberry on Cinder's stomach, and she squeals excitedly. Her little hands claw up at him and grab his beard, and she tugs.

Zeb bats her hand away gently and lifts his head up. "You want to put her to bed?"

It's blissfully domestic. For a moment, it doesn't even cross his mind that Cinder's not theirs, she's the child of two people who have all the reason in the universe not to let him within a hundred feet of their child, of their adopted family member, much less sing nursery rhymes from Coruscant to one and sleep with the other.

"Together?" he asks.

"'Course," says Zeb, bundling Cinder against him and leading Kallus out of the common room by the hand.

She's got a cot that clips on to Kanan and Hera's bunk. Her blanket's got tiny patterns embroidered into the edges, and she clings onto it.

Kallus shushes her and starts to mutter what he remembers of the nursery rhyme from his childhood. He forgets the words, sometimes, and he's not really a singer, but Cinder never seems to mind, and she drifts off sleepily soon enough.

Then again, he could probably say anything and she'd go to sleep. He knows Sabine's been reciting the Resol'nare to her.

Zeb pats his shoulder once her eyes close. "You're good at this." He presses a kiss into the sideburn closest to him.

"Passable, maybe," Kallus replies. "Your story earlier wasn't very accurate, by the way."

"Only if you thought it was about us." Zeb kisses him again. "Now our story, that's a good one."

Kallus smirks. "Not child-friendly, though."

"Maybe not." Zeb grins. "It's one for the ages. Love triumphs over evil. Life wins over death. There are cool weapons involved."

"And two beings with similar facial hair end up getting together?"

"Well, that's just a coincidence."


	2. Chapter 2

Kallus wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up stuck in a tree, but he wasn't happy about it.

Well, actually, he _was_ sure. His training in the Empire had included, amongst other things, espionage, and he'd had an awful lot of forced practice at it when acting as Fulcrum. Granted, slipping messages to the rebellion didn't really use the same skillset as hiding in a tree and listening in on Imperial conversations, but they did come under the same general category.

What neither his training nor his time as Fulcrum included, however, was a lesson in how to climb _down_ from trees.

Which, then, was why he was currently stuck. In a tree.

The Imperials he'd been listening to had long gone, their conversation duly recorded and memorised for when he got back to the Ghost. There were still a few beings milling about, but if he had the skill to get out of the tree, they certainly wouldn't have been a problem to avoid.

As it was, though, the only ways down he could see involved jumps of some sort, and though he couldn't be stopped from going on missions (he'd defected for a _reason_ , blast it, and he wasn't going to let a weak leg stop him from helping the people who'd saved his life) the medical droids back at base had explicitly told him _not_ to jump on it, and had given Chopper permission to shock him if he did.

So, wait it out in a tree it was, then. It wasn't _that_ uncomfortable, he told himself. He'd been in worse spots.

More embarrassing spots, well, maybe not so much.

By the time he heard someone arrive, it was getting dark, and the beings who were there had mostly left,. He peered through the leaves suspiciously- after all, capture by the Empire was still always a danger- and saw...

Oh, come on. They sent _Zeb_?

Fine, okay. They'd been... _whatever they were_ for a little while, and he was comfortable- hell, _happy_ \- with Zeb. More so than he could ever remember being, really.

That didn't mean he trusted Zeb not to laugh at the fact that he was stuck. In a tree.

Kallus poked his head out through the leaves, trying to preserve the last shred of his dignity. "Over here."

Zeb peered round, stared at him, then let out a giggle like a teenage girl.

"Did you just come to laugh at me?"

Zeb scoffed. "No, I've come to get you out of a tree."

"Thank you," Kallus replied, deliberately clipped. If he could get out of this with any dignity intact whatsoever, he'd consider it a victory.

Zeb was still laughing as he clambered up the tree. "How'd you even get _up_ here?"

"I climbed up. That wasn't the problem. It was-"

"Getting down?" Zeb laughed again. "I can tell." He was up to Kallus's level already- _his body's designed to climb_ , Kallus thought, idly. He held his arms out. "C'mere."

Kallus glared at him. "We are not going to _cuddle_ in a _tree_ -"

"Wasn't asking you to," replied Zeb. "I'm carrying you down."

"Oh." He shifted himself over, awkwardly, and Zeb picked him up.

It _was_ nice. Sure, this might have only happened because of his inability to climb down from a tree, but he always secretly liked being held by Zeb, ear to his chest so he could hear his pulse. It was nicely intimate.

Zeb, of course, ruined the moment. "This make you the damsel in distress, then?"

He glowered up at Zeb. "I thought this usually happened with Loth-cats."

"You can be a Loth-cat."

"I'm sleeping with you. I don't like what that implies."

Zeb chuckled, and the sound ran through his chest, rumbling in Kallus's ear. They were almost at the bottom.

"So, how many people know?"

"What, that you can't climb down from trees?" Zeb laughed again. "Only me."

"Can we keep it that way?"

Zeb set him down and nuzzled their cheeks together. "'m not sure..."

" _Garazeb_."

"Only if I get to mention this later. When no-one's around."

"...Fine."

Zeb laughed again and swished Kallus off his feet and into his arms, running off in the direction of the Ghost.

"I can walk," Kallus protested, without much conviction.

"And I can carry you," mutters Zeb, quiet enough for just the two of them to hear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an idea and some art from moonstarturtle (who is great) about Lasat head bumps and Kallus basically coughing up a hairball. I couldn't resist.

Turns out Lasat don't kiss.

Kallus discovers this entirely by accident- or, at least, not because he asks.

Zeb, sometimes, he notices, will touch their heads together, always deliberately careful for Kallus's sake. At first, he think it's just Zeb trying to hug him- after all, he's not exactly graceful, and he might bash their heads together if he's hugging clumsily- but it's always so deliberate that he thinks that can't be the case.

He likes it, anyway. They're both still working for the rebellion, after all, which is a full-time job. He always cherishes the little moments of physical contact, whatever they may be.

He finds out what Zeb's doing because he leans in, once. It's been an exhausting day, and he's glad to have something comforting after alternating between slugging through Imperial databanks and moving what must be the heaviest crates on the base.

Zeb smiles when he bumps back. "You like 'em?"

"Somewhat." Zeb knows that's an enthusiastic _yes_ from him. He still can't quite do informality after so many years in the Empire.

Zeb grins and does it again. "Didn't expect you to know what they are. Thought only Lasats did it."

"What?"

"Y'know," Zeb says, hugging him properly, "head bumps." He does it again.

_...They're a thing?_

"I... wasn't aware of them," he admits, sheepishly.

"Oh." Zeb's brow raises. "So you've just been letting me? Without knowing?"

Kallus looks away. "I assumed you were trying to hug me."

"Hey!" Zeb cries, mock-offended. "I'm not that uncoordinated."

"Most of the time."

"I've saved your hide more than once-" says Zeb, and for a second Kallus's head is just _yes you have, maker, i'm sorry, i'm sorry_ before Zeb boops their heads again.

It _is_ nice, the more he does it.

"They're like kisses," Zeb mutters, low in his ear. "Easier for Lasats. No sets of teeth. Quick if you're about to start a fight."

_Oh._

Zeb moves down to his neck, nuzzling against it, the slightest hint of tongue against skin. "This, too." He looks up at Kallus, though their position's awkward- after all, Zeb's a good five inches taller than him. "You alright?"

Kallus can't nod without bashing his chin into Zeb's eye. "Yes."

"Good," Zeb replies, and does it again, hands curling around Kallus's waist. "That's good."

Kallus's eyes flutter closed, and he relaxes into Zeb. He's still being deliberately gentle, he can tell, but considering how fangs and human necks don't tend to go well together, maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Kallus brings his hand up, over Zeb's head and brushing against one ear.

It twitches. Zeb looks up at him, bemused.

Kallus's hand goes back down, brushing the short fur on the back of Zeb's neck absently, before leading Zeb's head back up to eye level.

He's got an idea.

"Can- can I try?" he asks, the voice of the Imperial officer who trained him bursting into his mind with a "did you stutter, _boy_ -"

Zeb rests their foreheads together, and the officer's silenced.

"'Course," Zeb replies. He hands shift their grip on Kallus's hips. He likes them, too, Kallus has noticed, as does he. There's something pleasing and possessive about it, safe in Zeb's hands, careful not to scrape the thin layer of skin before his actual hipbone.

He's getting distracted. Time to actually do something.

He tries what he did earlier- just another head bump, maybe softer than how Zeb did it because he's slightly nervous, and Zeb grins and bumps him back. He lets out that almost-purr he sometimes does, and Kallus would be more irritated that anything over two metres can _purr_ if he didn't like it quite so much.

He turns his head, then, more of a nuzzle into the side of Zeb's face than a bump, so that if he were to turn his face, they'd actually be kissing. Zeb half-purrs again and links his hands together around Kallus's back.

Kallus ducks his head down, into the crook of Zeb's neck, nuzzling his forehead against the crease where his neck meets his chin. Then, very carefully, he cranes his neck down, mouth against Zeb's neck, ever so slightly open. He moves upwards, can feel Zeb tense beneath his tongue-

-and retches.

He jerks his head away as he does, hacking and spluttering to try and get the hair out of his mouth. He's so busy, he doesn't notice how Zeb's laughing his head off until it's too late.

"You could've _warned_ me!" he says between coughs.

Zeb forces himself to stop laughing long enough to speak. "Didn't think you'd actually-"

He starts laughing again.

Kallus gives his best unamused glare- which, actually, is fairly good- and picks another hair out of his teeth. "Excuse me for trying to be affectionate."

Zeb gives a final snort. "You were doing pretty well until then." He rests a hand on Kallus's shoulder, slightly more serious. "It's okay. We're gonna have to figure stuff out, and, y'know." He lets out another laugh. "We're both gonna mess up, sometimes."

Kallus is still picking hair out of his mouth. "Need any help?" Zeb asks.

"I'm _fine_ ," he deadpans, but he appreciates Zeb's sentiment. He won't hold this against him. Probably.

Well, maybe as an embarrassing story to tell about him.

"So," he says, after getting the final hair out, "since my attempt at Lasat kissing ended so badly, how about we try some human kissing?" It's an awful line, but he wants Zeb to stop talking.

Zeb just giggles again. "I think we both know I can kiss."

"Shut _up_ ," mutters Kallus, without much force. "Do you want to-?"

"Always," says Zeb, and he's tugged closer and they both forget to speak.

Kallus coughs up another hair at the meeting the next day. He's not happy with the fact he had to explain Zeb's uncontrollable laughter to his boss ("I, uh- licked his neck."), but the look on Zeb's face later seems to make it all worth it.

Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

Kallus has never slept well.

Even before the nightmares and panic attacks (the droids have given it a technical name, which he refuses to use) he never slept well, anyway. Late nights and early mornings at the academy in his youth ensured that, and though it's been years since the days of morning bells and no breakfast if you were a minute late, his brain doesn't seem to have quite caught up.

It's alright, anyway. He likes early mornings on base, when his mind's just sleepy enough to mute everything but still have it get through, so he can process the information without worrying he's going to start panicking every three seconds.

Basically, he's learnt the art of the lie-in. His academy self would have been disgusted.

_Then again_ , he thinks, curling his hand around Zeb's, _the lie-ins would probably have been the least of the old me's worries._

The fact Zeb's male probably wouldn't have fazed him as much as the fact he's a Lasat. After all, he did spend the better part of a year with a huge crush on Jovan, a few intense, mostly awful weeks actually sleeping with him, and three more years regretting and wanting it back in equal measure.

The regrets stopped when Jovan was imprisoned. The wanting it back stopped with Zeb, probably because they're so different.

Zeb's a cuddler, for one. Jovan would break into Kallus's room, do what he wanted (it was always what _he_ wanted, because he was older, and Kallus never even considered that he could say no) and then leave, to sneak back to his own bunk.

If anything, the aftermath's the best part with Zeb. Mostly because he's a sap afterwards, Kallus thinks, but also because he never fails to check Kallus is okay, if he needs a drink, if his leg's hurting him, if he needs his medication.

He used to ask if he could stay, too, before they decided to give up the farce and just share a bunk.

Now, after his stream of questions, he just beams at Kallus, kisses him (which, Kallus admits, always makes up for any slight annoyance he feels at the questions) and then curls up and holds him, his chest against Kallus's back.

Which, incidentally, is how they're lying now.

The sun's still low in the sky, rays of lazy sunlight draping their room, but the rebellion never sleeps. Someone's moving a crate around outside, and he can hear two beings- pilots, maybe?- having a conversation as they pass by their window.

Zeb curls his hand slightly, brushing it against Kallus's stomach. His other one's slightly lower, squashed between Kallus's waist and the bed. He's going to get pins and needles when he wakes up, but he won't complain for long.

They're both awake now, anyway. Sort of.

"Morning," Zeb mutters, low and drowsy into the back of his neck. He nuzzles it, too, so he's had a good dream, Kallus knows, still riding on the dopamine rush from the night before.

He can't complain. "Morning," he replies. He shifts himself upward slightly so Zeb can wiggle his hand free.

Zeb shifts his hand and sighs sleepily. "Up before me?"

"Barely." He doesn't want him to know he's always up before him, though he thinks Zeb knows anyway. They've been together long enough.

Zeb stretches out along the bed, yawning, and Kallus tries to do the same. He's mostly fine, but his leg's still stiff, and he hisses in pain when he moves it.

"Leg?" Zeb asks, still talking into his neck.

"Mm."

Kallus wriggles his toes experimentally. Yep. His leg's still working, just slightly painful. He can deal with that.

It's semi-silent, then, with only the sound of their breathing and the distant chatter of the base.

Someone bashes on their door, and Kallus is briefly afraid, his mind caught between academy and reality, terrified that _he'd been found out_ , as a slacker, as a fornicator (kriff, they always used that word, and it always sounded disgusting), as a traitor.

"Captain Orrelios?" The voice says. "You're needed in the command center in an hour."

And then he reminds himself there _is_ no fear of getting found out here, that everyone on base who knows one of them knows about them, that their relationship is listed in any relevant records, and that several beings have promised to fight their hardest for Senate-approved interspecies marriages once this war's over.

They're as fine as they can be.

"Right," Zeb calls, just loud enough to reach out the door. "'l be there."

Kallus curls up into him, not wanting the moment to end. Zeb chuckles. "Gotta go."

"You do," replies Kallus.

_"Gotta go," says Jovan, in a hushed whisper._

_Kallus just nods. It's safer than speaking._

_Jovan rolls out of the bunk, silent as he hits the floor, but disrupting the bedsheets. Their rooms are kept deliberately cold, and Kallus covers himself up with the blanket again, half cold, half embarrassed. Jovan sorts through the pile of clothes on the floor, pulls on his, and leaves without a word._

_The door swishes closed. Kallus grabs a tissue and wipes the come off himself._

_The lights go out._

Zeb, now dressed, kisses his cheek. "Meet me for breakfast?"

"What's breakfast?"

"Waffles?" Zeb frowns in thought. "Yeah, waffles. Might be able to scrape some meilooran jam if you're lucky."

Kallus yawns. "Count me in."

Zeb kisses him again and walks to the door. "See you then."

Kallus's voice is soft. "Love you."

The door swishes open, then closed. Kallus stretches out on the bed, warm and hopeful.

The sun rises.


	5. Chapter 5

Humans are far, far more delicate than they realise. This frustrates Zeb endlessly.

He's known this for as long as he can remember, of course. He knows it in how when he punches Ezra on the arm, the kid winces away more violently than he does. He knows it in how often they've had to use medical supplies on Kanan or Ezra or Sabine, versus how many times he's needed them. He can see in in the amount of armour he wears compared to the amount everyone else (well, maybe not Hera, but she's flying, not fighting) does.

So he knows. He just can't ever remembering caring so much.

Probably because it's never mattered much. On Lasan, he got hurt just as easily as everyone else, and by the time he was out flying through the galaxy armed with only a bo-rifle and his fists, it basically seemed normal that he wouldn't break bones or bruise or run out of breath as easily. It didn't really make a difference to what he did.

With Kallus, though, he cares. He can't help himself from caring.

It's half common sense. Mates- boyfriends- partners- whatevers don't tend to appreciate accidentally having a limb broken, and the base doesn't tend to appreciate having to spend much-needed medpacks on injuries essentially caused by incompetence. And, if he avoids hurting Kallus, it's one less thing to explain before missions, one less thing to have to work around, and one less thing to worry about.

So, if anyone asks, that's what he'll say.

But that's not all of it. It's also in the way Kallus looks at him, vulnerable, comfortable, _trusting_ , and the thought of hurting that- ruining that- makes him feel sick. It's in the way Kallus hisses when his leg hurts, the tiny cry he makes when there's an ache he wasn't expecting, he way he tenses and curls up each time.

Kallus chides him for it. "I'm not made of _glass_ , Garazeb," he says, soft and amused, just for him.

"I know," says Zeb, and his hands brush over Kallus's hips, feel the bump of the bones beneath, the thin layer of skin over fat over muscle, and it's not glass but he could break it as easily, and all he can say is "I know."

He knows Kallus is more delicate than either of them want to remember. His broken leg was worse than they realised at the time, apparently. The bone must've pierced the skin- either during the crash or when someone set it- and there's a scar running along his leg, from his shin to his knee. Zeb's hands brush against it, sometimes, and Kallus always looks sad, like he's trying to forget it's there, forget that parts of him can break.

Weirdly, Zeb doesn't hate it. It kinda looks like the Lasat letter K, for one, which always amuses him. He tells Kallus that, and he smiles, too, and after he knows that he looks a little less sad about the scar. He also laughs at how Zeb pronounces K, and they get into a 20 minute argument about whether or not he's saying it correctly because _technically_ it's a Lasat letter, but then _technically_ it really has nothing to do with Kallus's name then, does it, and it feels like they've been doing this for years, known each other for decades, and Zeb loves it.

Zeb also doesn't hate it for reasons he doesn't want to tell Kallus, for fear it'll seem strange. He likes that they've both got scars on their leg (though his are hidden beneath fur), too. It's nice that their bodies have something in common. He couldn't care less about the species gap (well, okay, maybe he _could_ , but the fact that they're not of the same race doesn't faze him), but there's always something that wells up in his chest when he gets reminded that they're basically the same, separated only by a few structure differences, a difference in body hair, and the fact that one of them sometimes lapses into a different language. The scar's one of those things- they can both scar, they both have legs to scar on, and beneath the scars, their legs still work.

Above it all, though, he likes the reminder that humans- especially this human- can heal.

Because, yes, he's terrified he'll hurt Kallus. Even when they spar, and Kallus tells him he doesn't need to go easy, and their weapons collide in a flurry of colours and sparks. Even when Kallus links his arms round his neck and mutters "you can scratch, if you want." Even when they go up against hordes of troopers and come back to base bleeding and exhausted, it's still his own hands and teeth and claws he's scared of. He's terrified he'll hurt him.

But at the same time, that scar reminds him that even if he did, Kallus would still be there- alive, as happy as he can make him, and completely able to kick him in the face.

And really, that's all he wants.


End file.
